


take my hand (and heart)

by goldenheadfreckledheart



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Best Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Ice Skating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 10:11:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10358019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenheadfreckledheart/pseuds/goldenheadfreckledheart
Summary: Bellamy's never been ice skating before, but Clarke's going to be there, so obviously he's not missing it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> BFF fill!
> 
> I almost titled this "cold never bothered me anyway" so that should tell you something about how bad I am at titles.

Ice skating, in theory, can’t be that much different than rollerblading.

And Bellamy knows how to rollerblade… he’s pretty sure. He has vague, hazy memories of wearing kneepads and a too-big helmet when he was younger, scraping his hands against the pavement before he got the hang of it. It’s one of the few things from that far back that he can still remember—before Aurora’s dependency became apparent and their lives went to… well, shit.

Anyway, he assumes it’s one of those like-riding-a-bike things you don’t ever forget. Or at least, it better be, because that’s the only thing he’s got going to convince himself that he’s not insane for agreeing to go ice skating when Raven suggested that they all go over the weekend.

It’s worth noting that no one’s stupid enough to ask if she’ll be able to skate at all, given her leg. Mostly because if you’re around Raven long enough, it becomes pretty obvious that if she says she’s going to do something, she’s going to do it. She’s probably the most badass person Bellamy knows.

But she’s not the reason that Bellamy is resolved to go ice skating when he’s technically never been before. Pretending that honor goes to anything but the fact that he’s in love with Clarke would be painfully pitiful at this point.

He’s pretty sure Raven knows. Hell, he’s pretty sure _everyone_ knows, besides Clarke herself—though that seems overly optimistic, if he’s as obvious as he feels like he is—which at least means no one is surprised when he’s twice as invested in group hangouts when she’s involved. That doesn’t mean they don’t make fun of him. Because his friends are still assholes.

Bellamy is, overall, starting to feel like a real adult—and less like someone who’s the age of the adult but still trying to catch up with everyone around him. Less like someone who turned 18 and became a legal guardian. Not that he’s ashamed of that, but it is nice to finally feel on top of things. So theoretically he should be able to handle ice skating. Surely that’s a thing he can figure out.

He’s less sure about handling his crush on his best friend.

His phone buzzes with a text from Clarke, asking if they should plan to head to the rink together tomorrow, and he grins down at it like it might respond in kind.

His friends aren’t _wrong_ about how pathetic he is, but that doesn’t mean they’re not still assholes.

 

 **Me:** Meet at the metro at 10?

 **Clarke:** I’ll be the one half asleep on her feet

 

He grins. Again.

 

 **Me:** 10 isn’t that early, Clarke

 **Clarke:** Yeah, says the old man with a normal sleep schedule

 **Me:** If you go to sleep now you can get like, ten hours of sleep

 **Clarke:** Yeah but if I go to sleep who will make fun of you

 **Me:** I was going to provide some options but it was just a list of our entire friend group

 **Clarke:** Bahaha

 **Clarke:** True. Amazing.

 **Me:** Be nice or I won’t have coffee for you tomorrow

 **Clarke:** You wouldn’t withhold caffeine from me

 **Clarke:** If not for my sake than for your own

 **Me:** …wish I could argue with that

 **Clarke:** see you tomorrow :)

 

He’s at the metro early, mostly because he thought there would be a longer line at the coffee shop but also partly because he’s anxious. Which doesn’t even make sense. He can handle ice skating. It’ll be fine.

But the fact that it doesn’t make sense clearly doesn’t keep him from over thinking it, because Clarke has to pluck out one of his earbuds for him to notice she’s arrived.

“ _Jesus!_ ” He flinches, only narrowly managing not to drop the cups in his hands. And then, once he realizes it’s her, more shocked than anything, he says, “What the _fuck_ , Clarke.”

“Shit, sorry! I didn’t notice you were holding coffee.” She looks appropriately remorseful for a moment, cheeks flushed. Then, apparently upon further examination, she smiles. “ _Hey_. You brought me coffee.”

He wishes he could say it’s too early to handle Clarke Griffin smiling at him, except then he’d have to eat his words about 10 AM not actually being early. Also, it’s possible that _any_ time is too early. Because he’s pathetic. It’s fine. He’s coming to terms with it.

“I told you I would,” he grumbles, resisting the urge to duck his head when he feels blood rush to his face.

“Still, ” she says, taking her cup from him, “thanks.” She takes a sip and sighs, curling her fingers around the cup, a serene smile ghosting at her lips.

He’s trying very hard not to be completely in love with her. Really.

Then she sags against him, casual as anything, cheek on his shoulder, and it’s not even worth trying.

“Seriously how is this early for you? Your shifts start way earlier than this.”

He feels her short laugh. “Yeah but yesterday was Friday. No work today. So--,” she stops to stifle a yawn, “—couldn’t force myself to go to bed early.”

“You have the sleep schedule of a teenage boy.”

“And you have the bedtime of an eighty year old. We balance each other out.”

Nothing about that should spark the hope in his chest.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, failing to suppress a smile. “Come on sleeping beauty, our train’s here.”

She groans, but follows him into the train where they manage to find two seats together. She slumps onto his shoulder again as soon as they sit down. He’s not complaining. It’s enough to make him forget his anxiety about ice skating until they actually arrive at the rink.

He slings an arm around his sister in greeting when he and Clarke join the group, exchanges jabs with Raven and Miller, chats with Monty about the students at the library they both work at.

After a couple minute of catching up, the others head inside, happily chatting and joking. Bellamy doesn’t even notice that he’s hesitated for a second until Clarke stops next to him.

“Hey. You okay?”

“What? Yeah.”

The face she makes could mean a lot of things, but he knows from experience that it means she can tell he’s holding something back. It’s fucking terrifying, how easily she reads him.

He shrugs, tries to make it casual when he says, “Ice skating is fun, right?”

She frowns a little, all signs of her earlier grogginess gone. “You’ve never been?”

“Never really thought about it.” Which is technically true, but more because he had a million _other_ things to think about as a kid, and less because he didn’t want to.

It’s not necessarily apparent that she catches that meaning when she loops her arm through his and says, “Yeah, ice skating’s great. Come on, you’re gonna love it,” but he’s willing to bet that she did, because it’s definitely the right thing to say.

No comment that it’ll be easy, or that he’s been missing out, or that he shouldn’t be nervous. Just that she thinks he’ll love it. And he’s inclined to believe her. It’s Clarke. She’s usually right about the stuff she thinks he’ll like.

He’ll probably fall on his ass. That doesn’t mean it won’t be fun.

*

He’s trying to match the tightness of his laces to Clarke’s—who looks like a fucking pro, pulling harshly at her skates after each loop, like the laces don’t burn her hands at all—when Octavia pipes up.

“Hey, Bell,” she says, in a tone he doubts anyone else would read as concerned. “You skating with me?”

On the whole, Octavia has employed a different manner of recovering from their fucked up childhood. Not in a bad way, at all. She’s just decided that now that she’s on the path to living the life she wants to live, she’s going to throw all caution to the wind and just do, well, _everything_. Anything they didn’t get a chance to do when they were younger.

And it’s not so much that Bellamy’s opposed to trying new things, but he still can’t shake the feeling that there are more important things to be doing, or that he should be saving at least the vast majority of his money for… he doesn’t really know what. Sure, he has student loans, but he’s doing fine with paying them off. It’s just hard to accept he doesn’t have the constant possibility of tragedy hanging just behind his shoulder anymore.

He’s getting better at the whole having-money thing, but he still doesn’t go out and seek new experiences the way that O does, and she knows it.

Which explains the way she’s looking at him, because she knows he’s never ice skated before, and she still remembers the sting of admitting to people the things they never got to do when they were younger. Not that any of their friends now would question why he’s never learned—mostly because they already know the answer—but habits are hard to shake. It twists his chest to know that she still remembers it as clearly as he does.

 _We’re getting there_ , he reminds himself.

Before he can respond though, Clarke’s leaning forward beside him.

“I was going to steal him, actually.” She pauses, glancing between the two of them, and Bellamy works to keep his surprise from showing. “If that’s okay?”

Octavia looks confused at first, looking to Bellamy with a questioning eyes… an expression that morphs into fucking _delight_ when she sees the tips of his ears go pink.

 _Fuck_.

“Yeah, perfect!” his sister croons, no doubt patting herself on the back for the matchmaking opportunity. “Lincoln’s going to be here soon anyway.”

Bellamy knew, in theory, that he’d be holding on to someone at least his first few times around the rink. But he’d been a lot more worried about actually _making_ it around the rink, and lot less about the possibility that that person he’d be hanging onto might be _Clarke_.

It shouldn’t be surprising. She’s his best friend, of course she’s going to offer. But he’s been doing alright with suppressing his feelings and he’s not eager to see how he does with that when he’s clinging to her hand for dear life.

“Come on,” Clarke says, after Octavia has pranced off, as naturally as if she weren’t wearing metal blades on her feet. “It’s just like rollerblading. I promise.”

It’s an echo of his earlier justification, but somehow it’s not as comforting anymore, now that they’re actually here.

“Don’t be surprised when I fall on my face and pull you down with me.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, pulling him toward the ice. “Drama queen.”

She gets out on the ice before him, easy as anything, and beckons him to step down as well. He takes her hand when she offers it, and doesn’t have to try too hard not to think about the feel of her hand in his. He’s a little preoccupied, his other hand is braced on the low wall around the rink to step down.

He puts one skate tentatively on the ice, hand closing tighter around Clarke’s his foot slips forward a little under his weight, breathing a sigh of relief when he steadies himself. The other skate isn’t so bad, and suddenly he’s standing on the ice, and feeling pretty proud of himself, as ridiculous as it sounds.

Then he makes the terrible choice to try to move forward at the same moment that he turns to look at Clarke, who’s smiling at him, wide and triumphant.

He really can’t explain _how_ he loses his balance, or—equally surprising—how he doesn’t end up flat on the ice. He just knows that he flails helplessly for a truly terrifying moment before Clarke somehow manages to steady him—one hand clutched in his, the other under his elbow, keeping him upright, her body steady and close to his.

“ _Fuck._ ” His hand are definitely shaking.

“You’re doing good!”

“I haven’t even taken a step yet! _Fuck_. This was a terrible idea.”

“No, no, come on, you’re doing fine.”

She laces her fingers between his and manages to coax him into several tiny steps, slowly moving them away from the entrance.

They work up to a pace that actually feels like they’re moving, but it’s still insanely slow. He still feels shaky on his feet, unsure how any given step doesn’t have him flat on his back. And if it feels slow for him, it must be actually terrible for Clarke, so he tries to lengthen his stride to speed them up a little.

Which is apparently the worst thing to do. He must extend too far, because the next thing he knows, his feet aren’t underneath him at all and after a heart-stopping second of imbalance—yeah, that’s definitely the ice, hard and cold against his back.

Despite the moment of terror, it’s not nearly as bad as he thought falling would be.

When he moves to sit up, he’s surprised to find that Clarke’s hand is still in his, which means… The apology rises to his lips immediately, asking if she’s okay, and he turns quickly to find her--

\--on her knees beside him, hair a mess and a breathless look of joy on her face, only slightly tinged with concern. For him.

He’s so in love with her.

“Am _I_ okay?” she asks, half laughing. “God that’s the most Bellamy thing you’ve ever said.”

After a beat of shock, he doubles into laughter too.

It takes them a second to get it together, and he’s pretty sure they’re getting confused looks from children and parents skating past.

“Come on,” he says, reaching for her and nearly slipping again. She dissolves into laughter again, but catches his knee to push herself up, and him along with her.

Bellamy’s grinning hard as they’re scrambling to stand, just as Raven skates past, agile on her feet, despite the awkward weight of her brace. She raises a brow when they meet eyes, and then winks, looking meaningful toward their intertwined hands.

He rolls his eyes, but then she’s gliding past them, and he turns back to Clarke, still smiling.

“So, I can give up now right?”

She laughs. “Nah, not yet. Come on, we’ll stay close to the wall.”

After that, it’s easy to stop worrying about falling and his crush, and easier to just do his best and enjoy his best friend teasing him along the way.

They do take a break a while later, when he can sort of awkwardly shuffle across the ice without her help, as long as the wall isn’t too far way. It’s pathetic, but he’s cool with it.

“Okay so. You’re bad at this,” Clarke says, collapsing on the bench next to him.

“Thanks, Clarke. Really helpful.” His ankles fucking burn, so he reaches down to loosen his laces.

She laughs, bright. “Sorry, I just--this isn’t really how I imagined this going.”

“Again, great for my ego,” he teases, knocking his shoulder against hers as he sits back up. “Thanks.”

“No I just mean,” she waves her hands, like she always does when she’s not getting her meaning across. It’s stupidly adorable. “You’re good at everything. Even if you’ve never done it before, you pick it up, like, insanely fast. It’s kind of fun to see you’re a mortal like the rest of us.”

He doesn’t know what to say for a second, in response to all that. It’s a lot. “I’m glad this is a fun experience for you.”

Of course that gets him a soft look. “You’re not having a terrible time, are you?”

“Nah. It’s not the worst.” She still doesn’t look pleased when he glances over and he has to crack a smile. “I’m having a good time, Clarke. Thanks to you. I promise.”

She stares for a second, probably trying to tell if he’s lying to make her feel better. After a moment, she smiles, cheeks pinking as she looks away. “Good. Me too.”

“Hey Clarke,” Monty calls, and Bellamy looks up to see him leaning against the side of the rink. “Sure you don’t want me to take a turn with the newbie?”

“I’m literally right here,” Bellamy shoots back.

“Nope, sorry, this is my victory,” Clarke says to Monty, finding Bellamy’s hand again with a squeeze, then pulling him up. “Teaching Bellamy Blake something new. The one thing I’m missing from my resume.”

“That’s fair, I guess,” Monty says, smiling at Clarke conspiratorially.

He hates them. Kind of. “Thanks, guys.”

He lets Clarke pull him onto the ice again, less because he’s eager to skate again and more because she seems excited about it. He is definitely _better_ this time, though, and he’s starting to see the appeal of gliding smoothly across the ice… between bouts of losing his balance or nearly running into children.

There’s no way out of admitting that the biggest appeal of the whole thing is that Clarke hasn’t let go of his hand the entire time. Which he does feels mildly guilty about.

“I appreciate you saving me from humiliation at the hands of our other friends,” he says, they turn the corner, “but you really don’t have to keep babysitting me.”

“Who says I don’t want to?” she returns, a little sharp. “I don’t mind.”

He grins, squeezing her hand. “I know you don’t, but look, I already think you’re the best. I’m not going to change my mind if you go skate by yourself for a while.”

It’s more… verbally affectionate than he usually tends to be, but that doesn’t make it less true. He just hopes the reddening of his face doesn’t make it painfully obvious just _how_ _much_ he thinks she’s the best.

She just stares at him for a second, which is terrifying, because he really can’t tell what she’s thinking.

After another beat, she smiles. “Cool. I’ll tell you when I don’t want to do it anymore,” she says, catching his hand again and pulling him forward.

He’s never going to stop smiling. “Cool.”

They keep skating, and he keeps being…fairly bad at it. But she also keeps _not leaving_ so he’s definitely not having a bad time.

He does finally have to tap out after another hour or so, because his ankles actually can’t take it anymore.

“I don’t want any of your old man comments,” he says to Clarke as they head to the benches.

She smiles sunnily. “Wouldn’t dream of it. It’s fine, I’m beat anyways.”

She’s apparently not just lying for his sake, because one she’s pulled off her skates, she leans heavily against him—her usual spot, head against his shoulder.

“Is this how you get girls to cuddle with you?” she asks, voice muffled and tired, “Get them to help you skate until you’re both exhausted?”

“Is it working?” he teases, “Anyway, you’re literally the one who volunteered.”

“That’s true,” she says, settling in closer beside him. “And yes.”

“Hmm?”

“Yes, it’s working.” She doesn’t look at him when she says it, just kind of mumbles it into his arm.

He turns to look at her, effectively keeping her from hiding behind his shoulder, though that wasn’t really his plan. His heart is pounding.

“It is?”

She shrugs and actually looks _guilty_. “You didn’t really need much help. I was already halfway there. So… sorry.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that other than by kissing her, so that’s what he does.

She only freezes for a moment before pushing forward, reciprocating eagerly as she winds her arms around his neck. The relief of it is staggering, and it’s better than he could imagine, when he let himself go that far. When she curls a hand in his hair, her fingers are still cool from the ice, a reminder that this is _real_ and a pleasant contrast to the heat his skin has built up. Because he’s kissing _Clarke_. His best friend. She must come to the same realization, because she pulls back from with a shallow laugh, grinning wide.

“Okay. Yeah. This is definitely the best case scenario of how I thought that conversation would go,” she says, breathless.

He can’t actually stop smiling. “I think you’re the only one who didn’t know how pitifully into you I’ve been, for months. If that helps.”

She laughs, running her fingers through the curls at his forehead. “You? Why else do you think I didn’t let anyone else skate with you?”

“You’re acting like getting to hold your hand wasn’t a significant factor in my decision to keep skating.”

Miller’s voice makes both of them jump. Bellamy hadn’t realized he’d sat down near them to remove his own skates. “You’re _both_ acting like this isn’t nauseating, good god.”

“Fuck off, Miller,” Bellamy responds, easy. Miller flips him off, but Bellamy’s pretty sure he smiles as he gets up and walks away, skates in tow.

“Hey,” Clarke says.

“Hey.”

“You want to get coffee?”

He kisses her again, nearly long enough that he thinks Miller might come back, just to fuck with them.

“Yeah. I really do.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always around on [tumblr!](http://www.goldenheadfreckledheart.tumblr.com)


End file.
